


love that moves mountains (love that sees all)

by Someone_aka_Me



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dragons, M/M, Of course they do, they bond over dragons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 16:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14312244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Someone_aka_Me/pseuds/Someone_aka_Me
Summary: Charlie just wanted to find his father. He never expected everything that came after. But then, he's not sure even a fortune teller could've predicted this.Charlie/Hagrid Beauty and the Beast!AU.





	love that moves mountains (love that sees all)

**Author's Note:**

> for Amber, with thanks to Lizzy and Bex.

Charlie takes a deep breath as he leaves the house.

He passes through the village like a ghost. Not a soul acknowledges him. Instead, they look away as he passes.

Ever since the plague ten years ago, it's like Charlie is invisible. Like he died right along with his siblings.

He lost his five brothers. He lost his mother, and the child she had not yet given birth to.

In their village, plague took his family, and his family alone. Charlie's pretty sure that's how everyone decided he and his father were cursed.

These days it's just Charlie and his father, alone in the house that felt too small for nine and feels far too big for two.

Charlie hates the house. His father loves him, fiercely and completely, but Charlie walks around the house and hears the echoes of siblings long since gone.

It's been ten years. He wonders when this sort of grief is supposed to be over.

He wonders if it's ever over.

He reaches the bookstore and slips inside. The bookkeeper smiles at him.

Charlie smiles back. Oliver has always been one of the few people not to treat him like he's still carrying the plague.

The only other is Walden Macnair, and frankly, Charlie would rather Macnair actually die of the plague than pursue him, so that's not a positive.

"Anything new?" he asks.

"Sorry, Charlie," Oliver says. Charlie shrugs. He hadn't really expected anything.

He moves to the back and picks up his favorite, a well-worn paper book with a dragon etched into the cover.

"Again?" Oliver asks. "You know no one's seen a dragon in centuries. Pretty sure they're extinct, if they ever existed." Charlie smiles.

"Is it so bad to dream of those as invisible as I am?"

Oliver's face goes sad, and Charlie thinks maybe that was one of those things that he's not supposed to say out loud.

"Thanks for the book," he says, and whirls out of the store before Oliver can say anything else.

He takes a moment outside the shop to inhale, catching his breath. A horse, tied up at the store across the street, whinnies at him. Charlie smiles back at it, before starting for home. He's expecting his father back tonight — he's gone a few villages over to pick up some gears for his current invention — and Charlie would like to be home before him.

…

Only, his father doesn't return.

Errol, his horse, returns long after the sun has sunk below the horizon, but his father isn't with him.

Charlie feels the blood drain out of his face. "Errol," he whispers, stroking the horse's long face. "Where's dad?"

Errol whinnies at him.

Charlie takes a shaky breath.

"I know you just got back," he tells the horse. "But we've got to go find dad."

He slides one foot into the stirrup and heaves himself onto the horse's back.

Errol turns his head and peers at him with one mournful eye, but when Charlie presses his heels lightly into Errol's sides, the horse takes off in the direction he came from.

…

They enter a massive forest, paths winding and labyrinthine. The forest has long since been forbidden — Charlie's father told him never to enter, for fear he would never return. Charlie wonders how he's ever supposed to find his father in here.

But it doesn't matter. His father is the only family he has left.

He urges Errol onward.

…

Hours later, Errol stops. Charlie tries to urge the horse on, but Errol won't budge. His eyes are wide, the whites showing, as he stares up the path. He looks half-delirious.

Charlie wonders if this means they've reached their destination.

He swings off the horse, landing on legs shaky from riding when they aren't used to it.

He wonders if he should tie Errol to something — but the truth is, he doesn't know when he'll be back.  _If_  he'll be back.

He leaves the horse free.

A few metres down the path, the forest opens up to expose a tangled series of gardens. Charlie can tell they were once grand, but now the statues are crumbling and the vines have taken over.

The decay is hauntingly beautiful.

Charlie weaves his way carefully between statutes and vines, looking up at the massive, crumbling castle.

He takes a deep breath.

He's hoping his father isn't in there, but he's thinking about Errol's odd behavior and he thinks it's likely that he is.

His nerves are on edge as he moves to the castle's front door and raises his fist to knock. Looking up at the massive wooden doors, Charlie has never felt so small.

The doors open before he makes a sound. He barely holds in a scream.

The entrance hall is vast, immense, and cleaner than he'd expected. Two curved staircases once led from either side of the room up to a balcony and a second floor, but one of them now lies in ruins.

"Father?" he calls. Something scuttles, probably a mouse. The place looks long since abandoned — but there's no dust.

Charlie has a weird feeling about this place. But if his father might be here, he's not leaving.

He pulls his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders and starts down the hallway between the two staircases.

The rest of the castle seems to be equally empty, and equally clean, until he finds a staircase that descends into the dungeons.

There, in a cell, curled up in a corner and staring at his hands, is his father.

"Dad?"

His father's face snaps up.

"Charlie? You can't be here. You have to go!"

"Dad, who locked you up?"

His father shakes his head. His eyes are filled with a fear Charlie has never seen there.

"Son, please. Run! Get out of here, before he finds you!"

"I'm not leaving you here."

His father takes a deep breath. "Charlie, do you love me?"

"What? Of course!"

"Then you won't be a martyr. There's a monster in this castle. You have to go."

Charlie hesitates. He cannot leave his father.

But then he has no choice, because behind him there is a thumping sound that is slowly getting louder.

His father cringes, and hisses, "Hide!"

But there's nowhere to go.

What emerges from the staircase is a grotesque amalgamation of man and monster. He's ten feet tall and twice as wide as Charlie, with hands the size of a knight's shield. His hair and beard clearly have not been groomed in years.

The part that makes him terrifying, though, is the fury across his face.

"Who dares to enter my castle?" His voice is like thunderclaps, rolling and terrible.

Charlie stares back him.

"Why have you entered here, stranger?" the giant asks.

"I was looking for my father," Charlie says. He's proud of the way his voice doesn't tremble.

The giant looks at his father in the cell and then back at Charlie.

"Your father is a thief," he says. "He stole a stone dragon from my garden."

His father's head is bowed low. "I didn't know anyone lived here. I thought you'd like it," he tells Charlie.

Charlie looks back at the giant. "My father is not a thief. You have imprisoned him because he didn't know this castle was inhabited. Let him go."

"The price must be paid," rumbles the giant.

"Then let me pay it," Charlie says without hesitation.

"Charlie, no!" cries his father. Charlie doesn't look at him. He can't.

"You heard him. He wanted it for me. It's my fault. Let him go. I'll stay."

"An' why would I do that?"

"Because it's much easier to hold a captive when they're willing to stay."

And the man looks at him, black eyes impassive, and says, "Al'right then."

"No!" Arthur says.

But his father is too late. The giant has made up his mind.

…

When his father leaves, Charlie says his goodbyes with a finality that makes his father call him cynical.

His father hugs him tightly and says, "I won't lose you too."

Charlie wants to tell him to let go. He wants to tell his father to go and live his life and invent.

But he knows that his father won't do that. So instead, he just says, "Both of us have to survive. And this is how that happens."

His father grips him tighter before the giant tears him away, tosses him none-too-gently out the front doors of the castle, and locks them behind him.

Charlie swallows.

He wonders what he's gotten himself into.

…

Charlie isn't sure whether he's been forgotten or whether the monster deliberately didn't lock him up when his father left, but when he tries to capitalize on it and flee, he finds the front door thoroughly locked. He's about to go hunting for something to break the padlock when a voice from behind him says, "Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you. The Master would be very mad."

He whirls around to find a blue wingback chair with eyes talking to him.

Not a normal wingback chair though.

A chair with wings sprouting out of the back.

"Hello?" Charlie says with some degree of hesitation.

"Hello," says  _the chair_.

What the  _fuck_?

"What the fuck?" he says aloud.

The chair… smiles at him?

Charlie staggers backward.

"Oh, don't worry," says the chair. Charlie begins to wonder if this is all a dream. The chair canters forward slightly. "My name is Buckbeak. I work for the Master."

"What… what are you?"

The chair seems to tip it's… what would be a head, if it had one. "I was once a hippogriff. Now, I am a chair."

Which… what?

Charlie has heard of hippogriffs, but only because he likes to read about ancient creatures who theoretically once roamed their lands. Now, they aren't sure whether they were ever real. If so, there aren't supposed to be any left.

But here, in front of him, is an animated chair claiming to have once been a winged horse.

Charlie is honestly still wondering if he might be dreaming.

But for now, after a good pinch doesn't wake him, he decides to go with it.

"How did you become a chair?"

Buckbeak whinnies and it sounds just like a horse. "When the Master was cursed, so were we. His friends most dear became a part of his household."

"Cursed? You mean he wasn't always…"

"The Master was once a kind man. He has always been generous to us. But the fairy they call Lucius did not like the Master because of his mother."

"So there are… more of you?"

Buckbeak smiles, and then whistles. From the shadows emerges a footstool, which Buckbeak calls, "Fang," and a candlestick, which he calls, "Aragog."

Fang just barks at him, and Charlie wonders why Buckbeak can speak when Fang cannot. When he asks, Buckbeak shrugs (an impressive maneuver for a chair) and says, "Fang's never really been all that bright."

The candlestick — Aragog — smirks. "The dog is a simpleton, but the Master loves him."

Charlie tips his head. "Does the Master have a name?"

"You can call him Hagrid, if you wish," says Aragog. "It is what he told the fairy he was called.

"Would you like some food?" Buckbeak asks.

It is only then that Charlie realizes he is starving. "Yes, please," he says, and he lets himself be led into a formal dining room that looks like it hasn't been used in ages, where enchanted dishes that claim to have once been a flock of ravens welcome him and serve him everything he could want, from roast turkey to a slice of pie for desert.

Charlie wonders if maybe this kind of exile, this kind of prison, isn't going to be so bad.

…

But the truth is, he isn't surprised when he gets bored. And when he gets bored, he starts to wander the castle.

Buckbeak follows after him, wooden feet clopping on the stone floors. When Charlie tries to open one door, and one door only, Buckbeak tells him, "You cannot go in there. That's the West Wing."

Charlie asks him why, but Buckbeak will say no more. The rest of the castle, Buckbeak lets him wander, exploring hallways and dusty rooms. Charlie is wandering mostly aimlessly, until he finds the library.

It's gorgeous, old and elegant, walls full of books towering over him. The books are all over the place, old reference books mixed in with romance novels and children's books. There's no organization that Charlie can figure out.

But deep in the stacks, in a corner, he finds a book that's not covered in dust like the rest. Instead, the spine is well worn, almost unreadable.

He pulls it out, lets the cover fall open in his hands. On the first page, the title read,  _Care for Dragons: a Guide to Not Dying_.

Charlie smiles for the first time since he's been here.

He settles down with the book in an armchair near the cold and empty fireplace. He feels uncomfortable sitting on Buckbeak, but the once-hippogriff places himself beside him and doesn't say much while Charlie is reading.

It's not until several chapters later that he hears the thump of approaching footsteps. He closes the book, quickly but gently, keeping his finger in the page. That's all he has time to do before Hagrid appears.

He looks even bigger when Charlie is sitting down. Charlie has never been a tall man, but he's also never felt quite so small as this.

"Why are ye reading that?" he says gruffly.

Charlie reminds himself to have courage.

"I like dragons," he says. Hagrid grunts, and Charlie breathes in, and then says, "I like to think that they once existed. I think they were beautiful."

Hagrid glares at him. "They were. Until your kind hunted them down, until all those that were left were scared and desperate and alone. Is that what ye like to imagine? IS IT?"

He roars the last two words so loudly that Charlie ducks, tucking his arms over his head, expecting a blow.

It doesn't come.

Instead, Hagrid huffs at him.

Charlie shudders, pulls up all the strength he can muster, and says, "No."

Hagrid pauses.

"No?" he asks.

"No," Charlie says. "That's not what I like to imagine. I like to imagine them wild and free and powerful. I like to imagine them untamed by anything, man or beast. I like to imagine them ruling the skies, maybe, just maybe deigning to visit us once in a while."

Hagrid's dark eyes stare at him from beneath the mass of unwashed hair.

And then, after a moment, he huffs again and begins to stalk away. As parting words, he hurls over his shoulder, "Don' ye dare break anything!"

Charlie blinks as he watches him go.

That was… frankly, not what he was expecting. That was anger that flared hot and then disappeared, anger that terrified him, but… didn't actually hurt him.

Charlie has no idea what he's gotten himself into.

…

Charlie spends most of his time in the library, in part because he knows he cannot go outside, but also because there are piles of books on creatures that he's never read before. He reads about hippogriffs. He reads about acromantulas, when he learns this is what Aragog is — was. He reads about  _dragons_. These dragon books, without fail, have well-worn spines and much loved pages. He wonders who loved them, once.

Hagrid comes in occasionally. It always starts with a question about what Charlie is reading. Some days, the answer seems to make him furious. Once, he picks up a lamp and tosses it across the room, leaving Charlie ducked into the armchair, arms protecting his head, shaking slightly from the adrenaline.

Hagrid stares at him curled up there, dark eyes unfathomable, before stalking away without another word.

But some days, the answer seems to only make him thoughtful. He doesn't say much, on these days. He doesn't say much at all.

But one day — Charlie long-since lost to loneliness and too excited to talk to someone who isn't a chair to care that some days Hagrid rages and seems to want to hurt him — Charlie rambles on about the book he's reading, about the different types of dragons. He knows his eyes are lit up, his hands are waving. He can't stop talking.

Hagrid lets him talk, stares at him with impassive dark eyes, and eventually gets up and leaves in the middle of a sentence.

But when Charlie returns to the library the next day, he finds a book he hasn't seen before on dragon species lying on the chair in which he always sits.

He smiles.

…

The weeks pass like this. Some days, Hagrid seems to hate him. Some days, he seems to trigger every single one of Hagrid's pet peeves. Yet some days, Hagrid seems content to listen to him ramble.

He doesn't ever throw anything again, though, and Charlie stops cringing every time he enters the room. He fears the giant's sharp temper and harsh words, but he doesn't think the man wishes him harm.

Once, Charlie falls asleep in the library and wakes up to find a blanket covering him. When he asks, Buckbeak claims to know nothing. Aragog points out that it's difficult for a flaming candlestick to carry a blanket. Fang just barks.

Charlie wonders.

A few days later, the fire grate in the library is lit up for the first time Charlie's seen. Buckbeak shrugs with his chair arms and says, "Maybe the Master got cold."

Charlie savours the warmth.

He begins to wonder about the curse. Buckbeak won't tell him any more than he already has — a fairy cursed Hagrid because of his mother. It's made him what he is now.

Charlie wonders if the rage is part of the curse.

It would explain the way Hagrid always leaves, whenever he gets angry. He walks away, and he never mentions it again. His rage flares up, bright and clear and terrifying, but then seems to slink away in shame.

Charlie wonders what Hagrid does when he doesn't sit with Charlie.

…

Charlie has been here for three months and he is beginning to go insane.

He's running out of books to read. He wants to go outside. He wants to breath in the fresh air of the coming spring.

He wants to see his father.

He roams the halls, aimless, needing to  _move_.

More than once, he comes face to face with the door Buckbeak told him not to open, the door to the West Wing. He wonders what's behind it. He wonders if he dares to look.

He knows that if he is left to roam for much longer, he will not care about the potential consequences anymore.

One day, he is sitting on the stone floor, staring at the closed door, when Hagrid comes out of it.

"What are you doing here?" His voice is gruff, but Charlie has long since learned that's always how it is.

"Wondering what you're hiding," Charlie says without thinking.

But today is not an angry day. Hagrid just stares at him.

"Why do ye think I'm hiding?" he finally says.

"Because you won't let me in there," Charlie replies.

Hagrid hesitates, and then turns around and stomps back into the room.

He leaves the door open.

Charlie pauses, and then bolts after him.

They travel down a long, unlit hallway. Charlie trails his hand along the stone walls, trying to keep his bearings, feeling the indent of several wooden doors before Hagrid turns and opens one of them.

Charlie is in no way expecting what's behind the door.

At first, he thinks it's one of the damaged rooms, open to the outside, but then he realizes that the edges are too crisp and clean. It was built this way, open to outside, giving a brilliant view of the forest and the mountains beyond.

Charlie breathes in the crisp air with relish.

Then Hagrid whistles, loud and long.

At first, nothing happens.

Then the wind begins to pick up. Charlie's hair, longer than it's ever been, starts to fly around his face. Hagrid doesn't seem to notice the wind. He's staring off at the mountains.

Charlie follows his gaze.

At first, he thinks it's a bird. A hawk, maybe?

The wings are broad. As it flies closer, Charlie realizes the true scope of what he's seeing.

And then the dragon lands delicately, gracefully on the extended ledge. Charlie cannot help staring.

It's massive. The wingspan must be nearly 15 meters, though the dragon quickly curls up its wings, shaking it's back as it does. The spikes that protrude along its spine are nearly half a meter high. It's scales shimmer a grey-green color. Four clawed feet rest on the stone and the dragon stretches out before ducking its head and peering at Hagrid.

Hagrid smiles — the first smile Charlie has seen from him. It makes his face look bright. Happy.

He reaches out a hand, and the dragon nudges it with its nose.

"Hey there, Norberta," Hagrid says. His voice is rough, but his tone is soft. "How are ye, darling?"

The dragon — Norberta, apparently — huffs a breath of steam in his face. Hagrid laughs, the sound low and rumbling.

He looks almost blissful. He strokes a hand along the scales of the top of her head. She…  _purrs_.

Charlie is still frozen in awe when Hagrid turns to him.

"Norberta, this here is Charlie. Charlie, this is Norberta."

"Wow," Charlie breathes. "She's… she's beautiful."

It was the first thing to say. Hagrid beams, all the way to his usually-impassive eyes. "Ain't she just?"

"How did you… How?"

"Found the egg," Hagrid says. "In the forest. Kept it warm over the fire until it hatched. Knew she needed to be free so I helped 'er when I could and let 'er go when I couldn't." He sighs. "'S part of why Lucius cursed me. 'E'd been looking for the egg for years. 'E was  _furious_. Thought 'e could sell 'er."

"Buckbeak said…"

"I know what 'e said. Said what I told 'im to. And it was part of it. Lucius hated my mother. But 'e hated me more. Thought if he gave me rage, I'd drive 'er away. But that's the thing. Fairy magic don't work on dragons. Not when they've hatched. 'E couldn't make me hate 'er. Couldn't make me mad at 'er."

He strokes her scales with a large, gentle hand. "Come say 'ello then," he says, like this is obvious. For the first time in a long time, Charlie wonders once more if he's dreaming.

He steps forward, slowly and carefully. Norberta turns her large head to look at him.

Charlie holds out a hand. Delicately, Norberta noses at his fingers.

Charlie holds himself as still as possible. After a moment, Norberta huffs a bit of steam which tickles his hand. Involuntarily, he feels his smile grow until it cross his face.

"Hi there, gorgeous. It's an honor to meet you," he says. He can't take his eyes off of her.

She's beautiful. Every line of her body screams grace and composure, but also dignity. He can tell that she is here because she wants to be. If she wanted to, she could burn them to a crisp and be done with it. But instead she's giving them her approval.

It feels like a gift. It feels like a miracle.

…

It feels like the beginning of something.

It feels like Hagrid letting him in.

Norberta doesn't come every day. Hagrid doesn't always try to call her, and even when he does, she doesn't always come back. He doesn't seem concerned.

"She does what she likes," he says. "It don't matter. She always comes back, in the end."

But when she's around, Hagrid doesn't have any fits of rage. He doesn't scream or yell. He speaks gently. Loudly, but his words are gentle.

Charlie wonders if this is what he really is, underneath the curse. A kind soul who loves dragons and creatures of all kinds.

Charlie wants to find Lucius. He wants to find redemption for Hagrid. He wants to find the soul buried deep inside the curse and set him free.

So one day, nearly six months after letting his father go, they're sitting in the room, Norberta sleeping near the edge, Hagrid sitting on a couch beside him and Charlie in an armchair that they've added to the room. Charlie takes a deep breath.

"Is there a way to break the curse?" he asks. He keeps his voice soft and non-confrontational.

Hagrid looks up at him, black eyes steady.

"It don't matter," he says after a pause. "I've only a day left. It ends when the clock strikes midnight and the seventh month dies this year."

Charlie breathes in deeply. "So it's unbreakable?"

Hagrid pauses. "It was. 'E told me that if anyone could fall in love with the beast that I was, the curse would end. And then 'e laughed."

Biting his lip, Charlie doesn't break his gaze. "What if I don't think you're a beast?"

It's then that Norberta snaps upright, huffing.

"Your father," she says.

She doesn't speak often, but when she does, her voice is deep and serious. She knows Charlie's father, because he's asked her to use her Farsight to make sure he was okay.

"Your father is ill," she says. "He is dying."

Charlie looks at her in agony. "What?" His voice comes out strangled and broken.

Norberta looks at her, eyes solemn. Charlie feels the truth of her words deep in his bones. He looks at Hagrid, eyes wild.

Hagrid looks back, and then says, "Go."

"What?" Charlie asks again.

"Go to him," Hagrid says.

Charlie wants to hesitate, wants to give this moment the gravity it deserves, but his father is dying and he  _can't_.

Hagrid leads him outside and whistles sharply. A horse canters out of the woods. Within moments, Hagrid has calmed the horse and holds it still for Charlie to mount. Charlie pauses, and says, "Thank you," low and fierce, before digging in his heels and cantering off.

When he arrives, he finds Luna Lovegood at his father's bedside. She smiles at him. "Welcome back," she says, her voice light and high. "Where have you been?"

"With a beast in a castle," Charlie says offhandedly, trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible. "Can you go get fresh water?"

Luna disappears.

Charlie kneels by his father's bedside, taking his hand.

"Dad?" he asks. After a moment, his father opens his eyes.

"Charlie? Is it really you?"

Charlie smiles, soft and sad.

"It's me," he says.

"How did you get away?"

"He let me go," Charlie says. "He's not all that bad."

His father looks at him. "He kidnapped you."

Charlie breathes in deep. "He was lonely. And I think he was scared. But sometimes, the thing that ties you down sets you free. Especially if… if you love them."

The last sentence falls from his lips slowly, as he realizes what it means.

Hagrid set him free. Out of affection. Maybe out of love.

Affection Charlie feels in return.

Affection that might be enough to break the curse.

Affection that might be the beginning of love. He thinks about Hagrid, alone in his castle, counting down the days until his curse is permanent. He thinks about Hagrid, who looked at him and deemed him trustworthy enough to see what might be the last dragon alive. Hagrid, who looked at him and saw the same sort of passion for creatures that he himself had.

Hagrid, who looked at him and  _saw_ him, in a way that so few ever had.

Hagrid, who is kind and gentle when he can be, and who hides himself away when he cannot.

His father looks back at him and says, "Son, please tell me I have not cursed you to a life of torment with the beast."

"You haven't. I swear you haven't," Charlie says fiercely.

"You aren't just humoring your old man?"

Charlie shakes his head. His eyes are watering. His father's voice is growing weaker with each sentence.

"Dad." His voice breaks. The tears start to fall. "Dad, I'm not ready for you to leave."

His father squeezes his hand. "We never are," he says. "But that's how life is."

Charlie swallows.

"Charlie," his father says. "You are strong. You are going to take this life by the reins, and you are going to give it your all. I know you are."

Charlie swallows again.

His father's voice is almost non-existent now.

"I love you," Charlie says, his voice hoarse. "You've been the best father I could've asked for."

Arthur smiles.

His eyes slip closed.

They don't open again.

He breathes in one more time, deep and rattling, and then his chest goes still.

Charlie bites his lip so he tastes copper.

And that's when Luna enters the room.

"Is this a good time to tell you there's an angry mob outside that wants to see you?"

Charlie knows the grief is still evident in his eyes when he looks up at Luna.

"What?" Charlie asks.

"They want to kill the Beast," she says. "The Beast that kept you in the castle."

Charlie knows his eyes go wide.

He can't deal with this right now. He  _can't_.

"Why now?"

Luna shrugs. "I don't know. They didn't seem to like it when I told them you'd been kept in a castle by a beast."

Charlie looks at her wildly. "Why would you tell them?"

She tips her head at him.

"Was it a secret?"

Charlie closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath.

He opens them again. He gathers his grief up, squashes it as tightly as he can manage, and shoves it away for now.

He has to save Hagrid.

He cannot lose them both.

He goes to face the mob.

Staring back up at him is Walden Macnair — a man Charlie loathes more than any other. Macnair once called him pretty, and when Charlie said no to a kiss, tried to kiss him anyway. Charlie punched him in the face. Macnair told the whole town that Charlie was nothing more than a petty little boy with rage issues.

When that only made Charlie like him less, Macnair told them all that Charlie came begging to him, only for Macnair to turn him down.

Charlie has never loathed anyone as much as he loathes Walden Macnair right now, looking at the sneering face of the man who he hated long before he started a mob to kill the only man Charlie has ever loved.

"Call off your dogs," he tells the mob.

Macnair scowls. "We heard about the Beast. I'm here to offer you a deal. I'll kill the Beast and set you free. You'll marry me."

"Go to hell," Charlie says without hesitation. "He's not a Beast. He's a man. More a man than you'll ever be."

Macnair turns to the crowd. "It's worse than we thought!" he tells them. "Clearly, the boy has been brainwashed by the Beast!"

"I haven't!" Charlie insists.

"That's exactly what a brainwashed man would say!" says Macnair, which… fair.

Charlie tries a different tack. "Please," he says. He lets all of the grief and guilt and fear that he is feeling colour his tone. "Please. I have just lost my father. Please, do not make me lose him, too."

Macnair gestures to him. "Look at this boy. Look at what he has lost. His father, sick, likely due to grief from the loss of his last son. The Beast has already taken his father. What can we do but free this boy?"

The crowd roars in agreement.

Charlie wants to cry again. He wants to have time to cry. Instead, he gives himself time for a deep breath.

But then the crowd roars off on their horses and time is one thing he no longer has.

He finds the horse he borrowed still grazing outside. He pats its flank.

"Hey, buddy. I know we rode hard on the way here, but I need you to hold out a little longer for me. For Hagrid."

The horse whinnies at him. Charlie heaves himself up and digs in his heels, following the pitchforks he can see in the torchlight.

His horse is exhausted, and the crowd rides harder, reaching the castle before Charlie can. His heart is racing. He cannot do this. He  _can't_.

He must.

In the foyer, he finds Buckbeak, Aragog, Fang, and an army of pillows Charlie knows were once something called Skrewts are raging war against the villagers. The Skrewt-pillows are shooting fire out of their tassels. The villagers look alarmed, which Charlie thinks is a rather fair reaction. There is no sign of Hagrid, and worse, there's no sign of Macnair.

Charlie slips past the fighting and heads for the West Wing without hesitation, grabbing an abandoned torch from one of the villagers as he does.

Norberta's door isn't open. When he opens it, she is not there. He continues down the hallway.

At the end of the hallway, torchlight spills out of a room that Charlie has never entered.

Quietly, he steps inside.

The room is a small study, containing a large desk. In the middle of the desk sits a tiny dragon, entirely made of stone except for the head, which is a brilliant ruby and turns to stare at Charlie as he enters.

At the other end of the room, Hagrid is standing there, looking smaller than Charlie has ever seen him. Macnair stands in front of him. Neither of them see Charlie. Macnair is sneering.

"That would be cute, if it weren't so sickening. The Beast falls in love with a human." He spits. "You're disgusting. You're not worth the dirt on my shoes, and the boy knows that. He asked me to kill you for him. He told me it was the only way he'd ever feel safe."

"That's a damn lie and you know it, Macnair," Charlie says, his voice steady as a rock. Both of them whirl to face him. "He's a liar, Hagrid. It's what he does." He steps forward, eyes fixed on Hagrid. "I need you," he admits, because it's all he can think about right now. "I need you alive."

He's so fixated on Hagrid that he doesn't see Macnair until it's too late. He's already smacked an unlit torch into the back of Hagrid's head.

Hagrid turns around slowly, and then  _growls_ , deep and low and more terrifying than Charlie has ever heard him. Macnair squeaks.

Hagrid grabs him by the neck, hauls him off the floor, and pins him to the wall.

Charlie wonders if he should stop him.

But he thinks about Macnair trying to force him into a kiss, trying to force him into a marriage. He thinks about Macnair using his father's death to manipulate a crowd into trying to murder the only man he's ever loved.

He says nothing.

Hagrid leans in close to Macnair, opens his mouth, and  _roars_  so hard it shakes the foundations of the castle.

Macnair melts into a puddle on the ground when Hagrid releases him.

Breathing in a shuddering breath, Charlie takes the opportunity to rush forward and throw his arms around Hagrid - as much as they'll go around a man twice his width. One of Hagrid's large hands comes up to cradle the back of Charlie's head as Charlie takes another shuddering breath, trying not to cry just yet.

"I thought I was going to lose you," he says in a whisper.

"Can't get rid o' me that easy," Hagrid says.

But then he's pushing Charlie gently away.

"I don' know what's going t' happen when the curse ends," he says. "But ye' probably shouldn' be here."

Charlie follows his gaze to the dragon on the desk. Only the tip of its nose now glows ruby.

"What's that?" he asks.

"When it turns back to stone, the curse is permanent," Hagrid says.

Charlie turns back to him. "I don't understand. It can't be permanent. You said it'd be broken by someone who loved you."

"Well, it would," Hagrid says.

"But I love you," Charlie says.

Hagrid goes still. "Wha'?"

Charlie shrugs and smiles softly. "I never really meant to, but I do."

Hagrid seems confused. "But… wha'?"

Charlie lets his smile grow, feels it reach his eyes.

"You see me," he says.

"Of course I see ye," Hagrid says, sounding puzzled.

Charlie shrugs. "Nobody ever does. It's like I'm transparent, made of nothing more than smoke and air. They look right through me. But you? You see me."

"How can anyone not see  _you_?" Hagrid says, like this is obvious, like it's a simple fact of life.

And Charlie knows. He's never been more sure.

This is love. Not simple affection.  _Love_. The kind of love that moves mountains. The kind of love that breaks curses.

Hagrid chokes out a breath, and Charlie follows his gaze to the dragon on the desk.

_Pure stone_.

Charlie doesn't understand.

Is he too late?

But then, does it matter? He loves Hagrid for who he is underneath the curse, yes, but he loves him, with or without it. He didn't fall in love to break the curse. He fell in love because of Hagrid.

"Fuck it," he says. "Fuck it. Hagrid, do you love me?"

Hagrid's eyes are shining. He nods. "I do," he says hoarsely. "I don' understand it, but I do."

Charlie beams at him, fierce and unapologetic. "Then fuck the curse. Kiss me."

Hagrid smiles.

He leans down.

Their lips meet.

It feels like a bonfire. It feels like an earthquake. It feels like being at the epicentre of a tornado.

Then they separate, and find that they  _are_  in the epicentre of a tornado. Wind is whipping around the study, leaving only them and the desk undisturbed. On the desk, the small dragon shifts slightly, then shakes off a coating of grey stone, once more becoming ruby and bright. It purrs at them, stretching its wings.

Charlie looks back at Hagrid, who is beaming at him. Hagrid, who looks a little cleaner but otherwise just the same.

"I… is it broken?"

Hagrid is still beaming.

"It is. It's broken."

"But you haven't changed?"

Hagrid looks down. "Wha'? You didn' think the half-giant thing was part of the curse, did ye'?"

Charlie blinks at him. "Erm."

Hagrid laughs, loud and long. "I've always been this way. 'S what Lucius hated about my mother. She was a giantess. But I have to say, I'm glad ye lifted it. I never lost me temper before I was cursed."

Charlie processes that, and then he smiles. "I'm looking forward to getting to know the real you," he says. "After we kick this mob out of our castle."

Hagrid smiles back.

"Sounds perfect."


End file.
